Every boat has a mind of its own. That is fact not fantasy!
Vista is no exception. She is happy to sail forwards but declines to go backwards! This is the reason that I always want to approach any mooring bows to. Yes, I know it is more difficult for me go get on and off the boat unaided. Yes, I know we might be the only boat facing forward not backward but going forward is, exactly that, straight forward. Going backwards is a nightmare.
Thus, it was we found ourselves in Samos marina being directed to a very nice slot, close to my brother's boat and with plenty of room to spare.All we had to do was steer the boat stern to, pick up the lazy line and hey presto we were there.
Vista had other ideas! True to form with a slight breeze blowing she kicked off in exactly the opposite direction to that which was being steered and we missed the slot completely.
'OK.' said the very obliging marina help. 'Try here, here is OK.'
Once again we lined up and nearly made it until once again a slight breeze blew us off course.
By this time my brother had managed to jump aboard to help me fend off and grab the line.
'OK,' the marina guy again. 'This place OK. Now straight back captain,,,,NO straight back...'
He doesn't know Vista.
Picture the scene R trying to sound in control (it's everyone's fault but his!) I am in my usual state of panic and frantically rushing round fending off other boats. J is, as usual, shouting for instruction and half the marina is watching the fiasco. I can't blame them, one of the joys of being is a marina is watching other people's cock ups. I defy anyone to deny this!
'I'll sell tickets next time we go out.' I yell to the crowd. My husband tells me to 'Shut it.' in no uncertain terms.
And then after four attempts we are tied up, safe and sound and I can spend the next few days enjoy the part of sailing that makes it all worth while - new places, new people, new experiences all on dry land!
I can sit on deck and watch everyone else make a mess of berthing and feel smug. Of course everyone else came in beautifully, easily slipping into their berths as if they had pressed a switch. Oh well......
Vista
My home at sea
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
And so to sea - again!
Not being able to swim is an advantage, my husband tells me
In days gone by sailors couldn't swim, therefore, drown quicker - not to prolong the agony so to speak.
"Besides if I can't swim it makes me more careful as I don't want to end up in the sea.'
You can't fault his logic but it is of little comfort to me who would then be left with the near impossible task of attempting a man overboard rescue, steer the boat and send out a distress signal.. None of these things I feel capable of accomplishing successfully
Don't imagine that I haven't done my homework. I know the theory, well most of it. Years ago I attended a 'Competent Crew/Day Skipper' course and have the certificate to prove it. What I did learn was that theory has bog all to do with the practice. Knowing how to fish someone out of the water, man a life raft and send a distress signal is all very well in the class room but out on the open sea it just does not compute!
I quickly realise that steering the boat is something which does not come naturally to me. I watch R. do it and it seems effortless. Visitors on the boat quickly get the hang of it but to me it is hard labour!
"Feel the boat." I am told but instead of skipping across the waves, with me at the wheel it seems to sluggishly fight each little swell - and that's with the motor running when we are under sail I am all over the place. My wake resembles a down hill ski slalom!
Every time I am left on deck alone I have to face my incompetence so, when I am by myself without the long suffering Captain Bligh giving me dark looks, I resolve to make amends for my short comings. I practice manoeuvring, I practice turning to port and starboard both with and without the auto helm, using the compass, finding a mark to steer a course towards, etc. and just when I think I am getting the hang of it some ferry boat looms up on the horizon. Now I know I have plenty of space and time, that there is absolutely nothing to panic about I KNOW WHAT TO DO..........BUT
I yell, "Can you get on deck like NOW there's a boat coming."
"Yes, it's just left Athens." Sarcasm is a low form of wit!!
Then there are the times, sometimes in rough weather, when R, has to go forward to change the flag or check a line. Couldn't I do that? At least I can swim a bit and there is more chance of him rescuing me than me him. Bur no either I haven't got the strength the halyard is too high or I don't know what to do! I am in agony until he's back in the cockpit. We wear harnesses and life jackets whenever the sea is really rough but what about those times when it's only a bit lumpy?
And then there is the sea sickness. Actually these might be the times when I am least stressed. I think it's Nature's way of helping you survive, feeling really sick means you couldn't give a damn about anything......bliss!
But I WILL improve, I will won't I?
Well I've been saying that for years. Way back, when we bought our first boat I discovered that sailing just might not be the sport for me. Up until then I had seen myself lounging in the cockpit with my G and T, or standing at the helm, the sun on my face and with the wind streaming through my hair. Ha Ha Ha!
On my first voyage out on a lake I found out that this romantic view of sailing was far from the truth, that these pretty little craft 'tip' sideways in a most alarming manner, that you can't control the speed or direction with any great degree of accuracy and there are no brakes!
I might have managed to handle all this if I had ever truly felt myself to be in control of the boat but up until now I never have.
After sailing for about six years on the North Sea, an experience not for the faint hearted, I vowed 'no more boats!' However, here in Turkey, in these azure seas with this wonderful sunshine it seemed a shame not to let R have his 'toy' on condition that it was his and not mine. I wanted no part of it.
So we bought our first little yacht in the Med.........
In days gone by sailors couldn't swim, therefore, drown quicker - not to prolong the agony so to speak.
"Besides if I can't swim it makes me more careful as I don't want to end up in the sea.'
You can't fault his logic but it is of little comfort to me who would then be left with the near impossible task of attempting a man overboard rescue, steer the boat and send out a distress signal.. None of these things I feel capable of accomplishing successfully
Don't imagine that I haven't done my homework. I know the theory, well most of it. Years ago I attended a 'Competent Crew/Day Skipper' course and have the certificate to prove it. What I did learn was that theory has bog all to do with the practice. Knowing how to fish someone out of the water, man a life raft and send a distress signal is all very well in the class room but out on the open sea it just does not compute!
I quickly realise that steering the boat is something which does not come naturally to me. I watch R. do it and it seems effortless. Visitors on the boat quickly get the hang of it but to me it is hard labour!
"Feel the boat." I am told but instead of skipping across the waves, with me at the wheel it seems to sluggishly fight each little swell - and that's with the motor running when we are under sail I am all over the place. My wake resembles a down hill ski slalom!
Every time I am left on deck alone I have to face my incompetence so, when I am by myself without the long suffering Captain Bligh giving me dark looks, I resolve to make amends for my short comings. I practice manoeuvring, I practice turning to port and starboard both with and without the auto helm, using the compass, finding a mark to steer a course towards, etc. and just when I think I am getting the hang of it some ferry boat looms up on the horizon. Now I know I have plenty of space and time, that there is absolutely nothing to panic about I KNOW WHAT TO DO..........BUT
I yell, "Can you get on deck like NOW there's a boat coming."
"Yes, it's just left Athens." Sarcasm is a low form of wit!!
Then there are the times, sometimes in rough weather, when R, has to go forward to change the flag or check a line. Couldn't I do that? At least I can swim a bit and there is more chance of him rescuing me than me him. Bur no either I haven't got the strength the halyard is too high or I don't know what to do! I am in agony until he's back in the cockpit. We wear harnesses and life jackets whenever the sea is really rough but what about those times when it's only a bit lumpy?
And then there is the sea sickness. Actually these might be the times when I am least stressed. I think it's Nature's way of helping you survive, feeling really sick means you couldn't give a damn about anything......bliss!
But I WILL improve, I will won't I?
Well I've been saying that for years. Way back, when we bought our first boat I discovered that sailing just might not be the sport for me. Up until then I had seen myself lounging in the cockpit with my G and T, or standing at the helm, the sun on my face and with the wind streaming through my hair. Ha Ha Ha!
On my first voyage out on a lake I found out that this romantic view of sailing was far from the truth, that these pretty little craft 'tip' sideways in a most alarming manner, that you can't control the speed or direction with any great degree of accuracy and there are no brakes!
I might have managed to handle all this if I had ever truly felt myself to be in control of the boat but up until now I never have.
After sailing for about six years on the North Sea, an experience not for the faint hearted, I vowed 'no more boats!' However, here in Turkey, in these azure seas with this wonderful sunshine it seemed a shame not to let R have his 'toy' on condition that it was his and not mine. I wanted no part of it.
So we bought our first little yacht in the Med.........
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Chios
"Your engine she very good motor."
"Your propeller is biggggg problem, maybe."
R., having discovered that we had used twice as much fuel as expected on our trip down to Chios, that and to stop my nagging, had, to my surprise, agreed to get a mechanic to look at the engine. As luck would have it there was an engine shop right beside the marina and the owner agreed to look over the engine so down he came with his son in tow.
Despite the fact that the mechanic was obviously impressed by our engine he changed the filters, noisily checked the revs then gave us his verdict.
" She Ok maybe not OK but I think OK."
"Can you get us a diver to look at the prop?"
"Tomorrow maybe. Today I phone."
This gave us the opportunity to explore a little of Chios. We 'did' the town, walked along the coast and explore the little streets with their beautiful houses that lead back from the sea. It was lovely as were the people. I think they were friendlier here than on any other island that we have visited in Greece. Despite being moored in something resembling a bombsite, I liked Chios very much. The town harbour was cheerful and noisy, full of small boats and large ferries coming in at regular intervals. The port police were helpful and anxious that we enjoyed our stay, in fact it was all very congenial. I could have stayed.................
Next morning the diver arrived.. This turned out to be the mechanic's son glad in bathing trunks and armed with a snorkel. He submerged himself under the boat then came up to announce it was 'very bad'. We gave him a paint scraper and after ten minutes of hacking barnacles off the propeller he announced himself satisfied that he had done all he could.
"You pay my father not me."
When we went to settle our dues I realise why we had to deal with his father. Still for my peace of mind it was the best 100 euros we ever spent as when we next set out the exhaust was clean and clear.
We should have left for Samos the next day but a weather report promised rough seas and strong winds - wrong! We ended up staying an extra night in Chios and setting our for Samos at five o'clock on Thursday morning, two days later than planned.
"Your propeller is biggggg problem, maybe."
R., having discovered that we had used twice as much fuel as expected on our trip down to Chios, that and to stop my nagging, had, to my surprise, agreed to get a mechanic to look at the engine. As luck would have it there was an engine shop right beside the marina and the owner agreed to look over the engine so down he came with his son in tow.
Despite the fact that the mechanic was obviously impressed by our engine he changed the filters, noisily checked the revs then gave us his verdict.
" She Ok maybe not OK but I think OK."
"Can you get us a diver to look at the prop?"
"Tomorrow maybe. Today I phone."
This gave us the opportunity to explore a little of Chios. We 'did' the town, walked along the coast and explore the little streets with their beautiful houses that lead back from the sea. It was lovely as were the people. I think they were friendlier here than on any other island that we have visited in Greece. Despite being moored in something resembling a bombsite, I liked Chios very much. The town harbour was cheerful and noisy, full of small boats and large ferries coming in at regular intervals. The port police were helpful and anxious that we enjoyed our stay, in fact it was all very congenial. I could have stayed.................
Next morning the diver arrived.. This turned out to be the mechanic's son glad in bathing trunks and armed with a snorkel. He submerged himself under the boat then came up to announce it was 'very bad'. We gave him a paint scraper and after ten minutes of hacking barnacles off the propeller he announced himself satisfied that he had done all he could.
"You pay my father not me."
When we went to settle our dues I realise why we had to deal with his father. Still for my peace of mind it was the best 100 euros we ever spent as when we next set out the exhaust was clean and clear.
We should have left for Samos the next day but a weather report promised rough seas and strong winds - wrong! We ended up staying an extra night in Chios and setting our for Samos at five o'clock on Thursday morning, two days later than planned.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Chios
I had imagined Chios marina to be similar to Mitilini marina and in some ways this was the case. It was similar in that it was partly built, the basic structure was there in the shape of concrete jetties but there the similarities ended.Chios marina was a dumping ground for rotting ferry boats, disused fishing boats and abandoned cars. It was, however, sheltered and much, much quieter than the town quay which was ringed by bars and coffee shops which plied their trade noisily into the small hours, (I thought that there was a recession in Greece????)
We approached carefully. Apparently the entrance was very narrow, shallow and rocky and one was warned 'to take extreme care when entering', however, as people were fishing from the rocks at least, I thought, there was someone there to sound the alarm if we went aground.
As usual the captain was instructing me to look for a 'good spot'. This to me means a place which offers the best chance of us being able to tie up with the least possible effort. There was plenty of room but some place would require a little manoeuvring not something I relish so I spotted a place at the end of a jetty which only required me to step from the boat onto the quayside. Unfortunately I had not counted on the jetty being a foot and a half above the height of the deck and as I have the agility of a banana this proved beyond me
Cursing me roundly for my stupidity, my lack of balance, my clumsy attempts to grab a mooring ring, my dear one managed to bring the boat alongside and secure us a mooring.
"There," he beamed, "That wasn't too difficult was it?"
I glared at him.
"You've not got to lose your sense of humour over these things."
Sense of humour or not I may be able to leap down but leaping up is beyond my sixty something year old knees. My sense of humour did not improve when I found that I had to crawl on all fours from the boat deck to the quayside. I made damn sure I always did this when there was no one around to see the spectacle of an elderly woman, kneeling in concrete, bum in the air struggling onto dry land.
Later two French boats came into the marina and moored close to us, it was good to see that at least one of the women on board one of the boats was as lacking in motor skills as me !
We approached carefully. Apparently the entrance was very narrow, shallow and rocky and one was warned 'to take extreme care when entering', however, as people were fishing from the rocks at least, I thought, there was someone there to sound the alarm if we went aground.
As usual the captain was instructing me to look for a 'good spot'. This to me means a place which offers the best chance of us being able to tie up with the least possible effort. There was plenty of room but some place would require a little manoeuvring not something I relish so I spotted a place at the end of a jetty which only required me to step from the boat onto the quayside. Unfortunately I had not counted on the jetty being a foot and a half above the height of the deck and as I have the agility of a banana this proved beyond me
Cursing me roundly for my stupidity, my lack of balance, my clumsy attempts to grab a mooring ring, my dear one managed to bring the boat alongside and secure us a mooring.
"There," he beamed, "That wasn't too difficult was it?"
I glared at him.
"You've not got to lose your sense of humour over these things."
Sense of humour or not I may be able to leap down but leaping up is beyond my sixty something year old knees. My sense of humour did not improve when I found that I had to crawl on all fours from the boat deck to the quayside. I made damn sure I always did this when there was no one around to see the spectacle of an elderly woman, kneeling in concrete, bum in the air struggling onto dry land.
Later two French boats came into the marina and moored close to us, it was good to see that at least one of the women on board one of the boats was as lacking in motor skills as me !
Friday, June 11, 2010
On the way - Mitilini to Chios
We slipped out of Mitilini just after dawn. The previous evening we had received two weather reports, one from the port police - "no good weather - bad wind, maybe force 7" and one from the Internet Cafe :"sunny and fine, light winds, force 3/4"
We decided to go with the latter.
At this point I should say that I have become obsessed by weather forecasts. I read every single one then make a decision on information over load! Deciding to go was for me a leap of faith - faith in R, in the boat and in a God whom I'm not sure I believe in!!!!
But the morning was beautiful so we went, hoping for good weather as our dodgy engine was going to make slow progress if it got to be more than a 3/4.
The only incident we came across was the discovery of a partly deflated inflatable, the kind use by people traffickers,and a warning to watch out for bodies!
I should love this. The scenery is lovely, the sea is calm, all is well apart from the bloody engine!!!!!
We decided to go with the latter.
At this point I should say that I have become obsessed by weather forecasts. I read every single one then make a decision on information over load! Deciding to go was for me a leap of faith - faith in R, in the boat and in a God whom I'm not sure I believe in!!!!
But the morning was beautiful so we went, hoping for good weather as our dodgy engine was going to make slow progress if it got to be more than a 3/4.
The only incident we came across was the discovery of a partly deflated inflatable, the kind use by people traffickers,and a warning to watch out for bodies!
I should love this. The scenery is lovely, the sea is calm, all is well apart from the bloody engine!!!!!
Spring in Samos
It was a good idea at the time!
My brother and his wife, R. and me would meet up at a mid way point and spend sometime sailing together.
It was a cold, gray day in the UK when this was decided and I have the horrible feeling it was instigated by me.
It was going to take both of us at least four days for us to reach Samos and the weather might be far from settled. We would travel down from Ayvalik and they would travel up from Gocek. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained!
Inevitably all the preparation work which should have been done on the boat i.e. lift out and cleaned, never got done as we were so busy with jobs at home, nevertheless, we set out, on schedule, first stop Mitilini.
I am not sure whether we had even left the marina before we noticed white smoke was puffing out of the exhaust and we were certainly not making as much speed as we should have been doing.
"Turn back." the Wimp of the Water squealed.
"It's barnacles on the prop. We'll see how we go."
This means no turning back but ploughing on regardless.
Ten minutes into the sail and my mind is working over time;
What do you do it the engine just stops?
How do you call the coast guard?
IS there a coast guard?
Are the life jackets handy?
What if we catch fire?
Oh God why didn't I check how to use the fire extinguishers!!!
Where are the flares?
How do you set them off - I've forgotten everything!!!
I whimper a few fears to my husband who responds with his usual scorn so I shut up and pray for a safe voyage to Mitilini.
Of course we get there safe and sound and I had almost (only almost) relaxed by the time we drew up beside the customs dock. This is a concrete wall indented with pits and scratches made by those unfortunate to get too close. There is no where to hang onto and no where to tie up.
A very large blue uniformed Greek appears.
"What you want?"
We've just got in from Ayvalik." Best polite English.
"Boat name?"
"Vista."
"Like windows?"
"Yes."
"Go to customs."
He turns and leaves me dangling my bit of rope (sorry line)oblivious to the fact that I need someone to tie us up. Meanwhile, back at the wheel R is asking me to do something impossible like jump off the boat onto the quayside or onto a couple of tires suspended there. Silly man!!
Luckily the Jale Ferry boat is next to us and I can shout over to one of the crew from there for help. Being Turkish he does so with pleasure and we have arrived in Greece.
The harbour master is a tall, strident woman dressed in an incredibly tight blouse and short skirt, high heeled leather boots complete the picture. She takes our documents, asks all the necessary questions and dispatches us to customs. He is a sleepy, laid back guy who is not sure why we have had to come to him.
R. asks, "Do we go to Health now?"
"Why? You sick?" stepping back from us.
"No, just a formality."
"You need doctor?"
Before the man is convinced we have brought the plague I drag R. away.
We make our way passed the coast guards again, on our way to the port police to further report in. The tall Greek meets us at the barrier with his equally tall colleague.
"Where you from?"
"England."
"Where in England?"
This is followed by a conversation about English cities in the North as one of these guys had been to Manchester.
Coast Guard number one suddenly turns on us abruptly.
"You good people or bad people?"
Now what do I say to this?
"Well a bit of both." I answer as honestly as I can.
"Ah well," he looks at us sternly, "Good people go to paradise. Bad people go everywhere! You go to port police now."
We make our way to the port police with the sound of their laughter ringing in our ears. Welcome to Greece.
Once we had completed the rest of the entry procedures we made our way back to the boat, suffered more bad Greek jokes and left to moor up in the unfinished marina. Sometimes I think this is my most favourite sailing place on earth - safe, free and quite! Here we will stay for the next two days listening to unreliable weather forecasts, stocking up on all the goodies you can't buy in Turkey, glugging back cheap wine and pigging out on cream cakes.
Honestly, I could have stayed forever if I hadn't made the promise to meet in Samos.
My brother and his wife, R. and me would meet up at a mid way point and spend sometime sailing together.
It was a cold, gray day in the UK when this was decided and I have the horrible feeling it was instigated by me.
It was going to take both of us at least four days for us to reach Samos and the weather might be far from settled. We would travel down from Ayvalik and they would travel up from Gocek. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained!
Inevitably all the preparation work which should have been done on the boat i.e. lift out and cleaned, never got done as we were so busy with jobs at home, nevertheless, we set out, on schedule, first stop Mitilini.
I am not sure whether we had even left the marina before we noticed white smoke was puffing out of the exhaust and we were certainly not making as much speed as we should have been doing.
"Turn back." the Wimp of the Water squealed.
"It's barnacles on the prop. We'll see how we go."
This means no turning back but ploughing on regardless.
Ten minutes into the sail and my mind is working over time;
What do you do it the engine just stops?
How do you call the coast guard?
IS there a coast guard?
Are the life jackets handy?
What if we catch fire?
Oh God why didn't I check how to use the fire extinguishers!!!
Where are the flares?
How do you set them off - I've forgotten everything!!!
I whimper a few fears to my husband who responds with his usual scorn so I shut up and pray for a safe voyage to Mitilini.
Of course we get there safe and sound and I had almost (only almost) relaxed by the time we drew up beside the customs dock. This is a concrete wall indented with pits and scratches made by those unfortunate to get too close. There is no where to hang onto and no where to tie up.
A very large blue uniformed Greek appears.
"What you want?"
We've just got in from Ayvalik." Best polite English.
"Boat name?"
"Vista."
"Like windows?"
"Yes."
"Go to customs."
He turns and leaves me dangling my bit of rope (sorry line)oblivious to the fact that I need someone to tie us up. Meanwhile, back at the wheel R is asking me to do something impossible like jump off the boat onto the quayside or onto a couple of tires suspended there. Silly man!!
Luckily the Jale Ferry boat is next to us and I can shout over to one of the crew from there for help. Being Turkish he does so with pleasure and we have arrived in Greece.
The harbour master is a tall, strident woman dressed in an incredibly tight blouse and short skirt, high heeled leather boots complete the picture. She takes our documents, asks all the necessary questions and dispatches us to customs. He is a sleepy, laid back guy who is not sure why we have had to come to him.
R. asks, "Do we go to Health now?"
"Why? You sick?" stepping back from us.
"No, just a formality."
"You need doctor?"
Before the man is convinced we have brought the plague I drag R. away.
We make our way passed the coast guards again, on our way to the port police to further report in. The tall Greek meets us at the barrier with his equally tall colleague.
"Where you from?"
"England."
"Where in England?"
This is followed by a conversation about English cities in the North as one of these guys had been to Manchester.
Coast Guard number one suddenly turns on us abruptly.
"You good people or bad people?"
Now what do I say to this?
"Well a bit of both." I answer as honestly as I can.
"Ah well," he looks at us sternly, "Good people go to paradise. Bad people go everywhere! You go to port police now."
We make our way to the port police with the sound of their laughter ringing in our ears. Welcome to Greece.
Once we had completed the rest of the entry procedures we made our way back to the boat, suffered more bad Greek jokes and left to moor up in the unfinished marina. Sometimes I think this is my most favourite sailing place on earth - safe, free and quite! Here we will stay for the next two days listening to unreliable weather forecasts, stocking up on all the goodies you can't buy in Turkey, glugging back cheap wine and pigging out on cream cakes.
Honestly, I could have stayed forever if I hadn't made the promise to meet in Samos.
The Sea and Me!
This blog is dedicated to all those who partner amateur sailor, who love the sea above all else and cannot understand that other people do not always share this. Maybe I will connect with those who accompany sailors who know no fear, never suffer from sea sickness, thrive on the feel of stinging cold spray on their faces, relish sleepless nights as they keep watch under the stars, ignore wet feet, sunburn, chapped lips and blistered, rope scored hands and can't smell the inevitable blocked up loo, don't mind bananas for every meal when underway, ..... I could go on
Those of us who choose to take to the sea with the aforementioned will know what I am talking about. Often, I say this without meaning to be sexist, they are women like me who have encouraged their men folk to follow their dream only to find out that one man's dream can become another woman's nightmare. Not always, just some of the time.
So why do we, or rather I, do it?
Because there are the few times when it all becomes worth it. When your boat is followed by dolphins, flying fish leap alongside, you see a WHALE, the sunrise turning the sea from red, to gold, arriving at a new destination and meeting new people, leaving for another harbour, but most of all seeing your partner's face light up when their dreams are realised.
Most of all, though, this blog is for me and my friends who ask me, "Why do you do it?"
May be we will get some answers!
Those of us who choose to take to the sea with the aforementioned will know what I am talking about. Often, I say this without meaning to be sexist, they are women like me who have encouraged their men folk to follow their dream only to find out that one man's dream can become another woman's nightmare. Not always, just some of the time.
So why do we, or rather I, do it?
Because there are the few times when it all becomes worth it. When your boat is followed by dolphins, flying fish leap alongside, you see a WHALE, the sunrise turning the sea from red, to gold, arriving at a new destination and meeting new people, leaving for another harbour, but most of all seeing your partner's face light up when their dreams are realised.
Most of all, though, this blog is for me and my friends who ask me, "Why do you do it?"
May be we will get some answers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)